According to Bug Guide, the season for the California Oak Moth – Phryganidia californica, as if you care – is March to November. December through February should be too cold for them to be out. But it is about 70° outside and we haven’t had a night that dropped below freezing all winter. In the Sierras, there is almost no snow, less than 4% of normal near Tahoe, and the Department of Water Resources says that it is too early to say we are in a drought which I’m going to take as We are in a drought, almost for sure.
Climate projection and long-range weather predictions are very inexact sciences and, it seems, at some level, the decision has been made to underestimate the changes we are going through. I can, kind of, sort of, understand that because, if “Officials” overreact, the climate deniers will say, See, they are just trying to scare you (so they will get paid more or the Chinese will make money on unnecessary solar panels, or something other than “This is a real problem”). When we talk about a drought, we have the tendency to think rainfall and, especially, local rainfall but the lack of snow is the biggest problem. So far, this winter has just been too warm.
This year, as luck would have it, the last Super Moon of a cluster of three fell on Michele’s birthday. And to make it even more special, according to Michele, this Super Moon was a Blue Moon – meaning that it was the second Super Moon of the month – with a total eclipse that resulted in it being a Blood Moon just before the dawn of her birthday. If you are into that sort of thing, which I am not, but Michele is, it is almost too exciting to bear. The day before ended with a sweet sunset. On the West Coast, the moon eclipse was about five in the morning and Michele’s plan was to get up every hour starting about three. I slept so I can’t attest to how many times Michele got up, but about five she woke me and it was pretty terrific.
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Michele came home, the other day, with the lemons you see above and a quarter pound each on two kinds of sashimi grade fish. She had been at Berkeley Bowl and I don’t think there is anywhere else in the world where she could have found both stripped lemons and the fish. 
Michele and I saw The Post, the other night and I liked it, a lot. Maybe because it is political, maybe because it is a sort of homage to old-timey newspaper movies, but, mostly, I think because it is so comfortably familiar. I’m not normally a Steven Spielberg fan but he was the perfect director for this movie. The scenes of Merrill Streep walking into a room of all men, all in their dark power suits, seem so familiar from my growing-up past and Streep’s tentative reaction is perfect. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t grow up in that environment, but I did grow up in an environment that was trying to ape that life. A life in which rich, cultivated, women were close to powerless but had the time and money to look great in their clothes. It was a time when a woman being powerful was considered crass. Merrill Streep is great as one of these powerless women, Kay Graham – trusted only to manage the family while her husband was given a newspaper to run by her father – is forced to take control. 
